Strange True Stories of Louisiana eBook

“Thees weel and tes_tam_ent as thus dictated
too me by sayed testator and wheech was wreeten
by me notarie by my h-own han’ jus’ as
dictated, was thane by me not-arie rade to
sayed Mr. [Englishman] in an au_dib_le voice and in
the presence of dthe aforesayed three witnesses, and
dthe sayed Mr. [Englishman] diclar-ed that
he well awnder-stood me not-arie and per_sev_er-ed
een diclaring the same too be his laz weel;
all of wheech was don’ at one time and place
weethout in_ter_’uption and weethout turningue
aside to other acts.

“Thus done and pass-ed,” etc.

The notary rose, a wet pen in one hand and the will—­with
his portfolio under it for a tablet—­in
the other. Attalie hurried to the bedside and
stood ready to assist. The patient took the pen
with a trembling hand. The writing was laid before
him, and Attalie with a knee on the bed thrust her
arm under the pillows behind him to make a firmer support.

The patient seemed to summon all his power to poise
and steady the pen, but his hand shook, his fingers
loosened, and it fell upon the document, making two
or three blots there and another on the bed-covering,
whither it rolled. He groped faintly for it,
moaned, and then relaxed.

“He cannot sign!” whispered Attalie, piteously.

“Yes,” gasped the patient.

The notary once more handed him the pen, but the same
thing happened again.

The butcher cleared his throat in a way to draw attention.
Attalie looked towards him and he drawled, half rising
from his chair:

“I t’ink—­a li’l more
cognac”—­

“Yass,” murmured the baker. The candlestick-maker
did not speak, but unconsciously wet his lips with
his tongue and wiped them with the back of his forefinger.
But every eye turned to the patient, who said:

“I cannot write—­my hand—­shakes
so.”

The notary asked a formal question or two, to which
the patient answered “yes” and “no.”
The official sat again at the desk, wrote a proper
statement of the patient’s incapacity to make
his signature, and then read it aloud. The patient
gave assent, and the three witnesses stepped forward
and signed. Then the notary signed.

As the four men approached the door to depart the
baker said, lingeringly, to Attalie, smiling diffidently
as he spoke:

“Dat settin’ still make a man mighty dry,
yass.”

“Yass, da’s true,” said Attalie.

“Yass,” he added, “same time he
dawn’t better drink much water dat hot
weader, no.” The butcher turned and smiled
concurrence; but Attalie, though she again said “yass,”
only added good-day, and the maid led them and the
notary down stairs and let them out.

VI.

MEN CAN BE BETTER THAN THEIR LAWS.

An hour later, when the black maid returned from an
errand, she found her mistress at the head of the
stairs near the Englishman’s door, talking in
suppressed tones to Camille Ducour, who, hat in hand,
seemed to have just dropped in and to be just going
out again. He went, and Attalie said to her maid
that he was “so good” and was going to
come and sit up all night with the sick man.